


Playground Antics

by Atsvie



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Jailbait!Peter, M/M, Making Out, Playgrounds, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atsvie/pseuds/Atsvie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Wade try to think of something to do on a Friday night and end up at the park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playground Antics

For a teenager and a broke college student, they’ve discovered that they’re frustratingly limited in their date options. Movies require tickets to be bought, going out to dinner that’s anything more than fast food means sacrificing that week’s pay check, and going to the mall is fine when you possess impulse control—which Wade and Peter don’t.

So they’re left driving around in the cool summer evening, the low hum of Wade’s old car reverberating as he accelerates on the windy back roads. He belts out songs on the radio that Peter doesn’t recognize, something old and from ‘ _his generation_ ’. Saying that makes Wade sound old, not like he’s only 23—and it makes Peter feel infinitely younger at the age of 17.

Despite the massive age gap looming between them, Peter feels at home with the weight of Wade’s forearm resting against his between the seats. Their fingers are tangled together, one of Wade’s hands on the top of the wheel as he jerks the car into a sharp turn.

“I’m so bored,” Wade whines, speeding down the incline of a hill. It throws Peter’s stomach, like being on a roller coaster except without the safety component to reassure him.

The younger frowns, looking down at his lap. He doesn’t look out the window like he’s been doing for the past hour; it makes him feel small. It reminds him, as they pass suburbs and land, of all that he’s not familiar with yet, all that Wade already finds to be so simple because he’s _older._ He’s a little bitter. And if he had a car, he would insist on driving Wade around because he has his restricted licence which had been a _big deal_ to him and not so much to his boyfriend who had been driving already for seven years.

“What is there to do?” Peter asks for what feels to be the hundredth time that night. It’s a Friday night, the sky starting to dim and cast shadows over the streets. The cars pass them by with bright headlights, cutting through the twilight between evening and darkness. No one wants to be resigned to staying at home on a night like this. Especially when they have an older boyfriend with a car.

It would just help if either of them had money to spend.

The car whirls down a fairly busy street and Wade cranes his neck to look out the window. “So there’s a park full of children and it’s almost dark.”

Peter groans.

“Woah, that sounded way creepier than I meant. Not into that, despite the whole jail-bait thing. Okay wow this keeps looking worse and worse doesn’t it?” Wade muses, not waiting for Peter’s opinion on the matter before parking on the side of the street next to a caravan of trucks and mini-vans.

The teenager rolls his eyes, deciding to not comment on his boyfriend’s tangent even though he can think of at least four different inappropriate jokes to reply with. Except that the soccer moms are already eyeing him disapprovingly when he slams the car door shut and migrates to Wade’s side.

There’s a practice for soccer and football on the other side of the park where the lawn is expansive enough for the kids to run around while the parents watch. On the other side of the park is a playground where the little siblings of the players scurry around like ants to a crumb. Wade drags him towards it and he hopes that the darkness setting in will scare the kids away.

“At least it’s free,” Peter says dryly, leaning into the casual hand resting on his hip. Wade hums in agreement and promptly makes a face involving a tongue sticking out at a little blonde girl who stares at them both. Her face scrunches up in terror and the mean man laughs until Peter swats at his arm.

He hadn’t been able to tell if she had been staring at two boys with their arms around each other or the marred flesh of Wade’s burn scars. Either way, Peter tells him that he’s not entitled to terrorizing the children.

Five minutes later Wade tells a kid he’ll throw him off the play-set if he doesn’t relinquish his position on the plastic tunnel.

“Wade,” Peter hisses, jabbing his elbow into his side but the kid scurries off with a distressed wail. Wade looks far too smug for a twenty-three year old man that just scared a kid under ten. He watches as the taller has to bend down, crouching before sliding into the horizontal tunnel. It’s a faded orange, the sun having bleached the color out of the top but still a darker hue inside.

Peter sighs, bending down to stare at Wade lounging back on the slight incline, arms out as if to invite him in. For a moment, Peter just _looks_ at him in all of his tight, grey Superman shirt and jeans glory. He makes a low whining sound that finally encourages Peter to climb into the tunnel with him.

It’s a tight space made even tighter by Wade’s large form wrapping around him. He can hear kids running around outside, past the tunnel with pattering footsteps and happy screams. Which is why he swallows dryly when Wade tilts his head, eyes giving him that look that promised activities that children shouldn’t be around to witness.

“Hi,” Wade whispers, lips curling into a grin. And it’s easy to forget that they’ve got this enormous dimension of age and experience between them when they’ve crammed themselves into a play tunnel for kids ten years younger than them. Instead, it’s just Wade and Peter, hanging out in a playground of all places with Peter in an awkward, half straddle, half bending down to keep from bumping his head on the tunnel.

“Hey,” Peter smiles back. He feels Wade’s hands shift to rest on his waist and leans forward a little, just enough so that their noses are touching. It’s sickeningly intimate and Peter can’t help but laugh as Wade nuzzles their noses together like obnoxious couples in their first month of dating.

Apparently, after a half a year, Wade still deems Eskimo kisses to be a thing.

Except at some point, Peter tilts his head enough so that their lips press together. It’s a chaste kiss, something just as light and airy as the affection before, but Wade’s pulls him forward and crushes their lips back together.

Kissing Wade is familiar at this point. He knows the way that their lips push together, how their bodies curve in to each other’s like they’re trying to mesh together. His lips are warm but dry and Peter inhales the night air mixed with the scent of spices and something subtly saccharine.

And kissing him is somewhat intoxicating because he can’t remember at what point Wade’s tongue pushes between his lips and his fingers hook around the fabric at the teenager’s waist. Peter sighs into his mouth contently, letting his tongue licks at his mouth and draw his out to slide over wetly.

It’s not the most graceful of kisses; he can feel wetness at the side of his mouth and his jaw hurts a little, but he loves the way that Wade’s fingers grip into him, the way that he concentrates on sucking around his tongue intently.

Peter adjusts himself in his lap so he’s straddling his waist as best he can in the claustrophobic space, arms draped around his shoulders as they make out. The hands at his hips drift under he feels one gripping his ass, squeezing and Peter gasps against his lips.

It takes him too long to realize he’s hard and making out with Wade around children, but part of him doesn’t mind because it’s _fun_ when they’re not getting caught. Regardless, the moral portion of him nags at his conscious until he pulls away, wiping the saliva off his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s dark out,” Peter comments, leaning forward again to simply nuzzle his face into the crook of Wade’s neck.

“Yeah? But you’ve got hours until curfew so what’s it matter?” Wade snorts, not bothering to remove his hands from the younger’s ass when Peter doesn’t move away from it.

Peter shrugs. “Nothing, really. Just. I don’t know. Not much to do. Stars are out, I guess.”

Wade laughs, a rumble low in his throat that Peter finds far too attractive. “Romantic. Alright, star gazing it is. First to find a UFO wins.”

“Challenge accepted,” Peter grins at him, scrambling out of the tunnel to hop onto a swing where the night sky is a backdrop of navy and a blanket of pinlights above them.


End file.
